Dragons & Wine
by St. Harridan
Summary: Collection of Hitsugaya and Matsumoto oneshots/drabbles. Chapter 4: Toshiro just can't stand his lieutenant's tendency to ditch work, and he finally decides to give her a piece of his mind.
1. Rest

**Just wanted to do a little something with these two. Hope it turned out all right!**

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><p>Rest<p>

Hitsugaya Toshiro was a young man brimming with talent, easily the youngest captain amongst his much older peers. With striking blue eyes that seemed to pierce into one's soul, sporting a constant scowl which earned him a rather unpleasant nickname from the Eleventh's pink bob, it wasn't difficult to be reduced to a sputtering mess whenever one came face to face with him. Even his spiritual pressure was enough to cause an officer to sweat a river.

This was Captain Hitsugaya to the rest of the Seireitei, the level-headed, wise little leader of Squad Ten. And yet, somehow or rather, he still managed to lose his temper over something so trivial as his procrastinating lieutenant.

It was a known fact that the Eleventh Division's brute of a captain didn't care for paperwork, deeming it as "useless piles of bullshit", but Toshiro wasn't one for such carelessness. He was responsible, punctual, diligent, everything one would expect from a top student.

Matsumoto… Well, she always managed to turn Toshiro into a volcano brimming with lava with just the slightest smirk, to say the least. Her disregard and general lack of discipline were what drove Toshiro to the edge, and each time he wished he could just grab his desk and fling it at her. But of course, that wouldn't do for an audience with Yamamoto, and he didn't want to be branded as being influenced by the Eleventh Division which, much to his annoyance, was just situated right beside his own barracks.

Toshiro was a tolerant youth, always with his anger intact, so when he stepped into his office and found the opposite of what he had been hoping for – a tidy heap of paperwork sieved through and signed – it was only by sheer force of will that he kept his top from blowing.

There, stretched out on the sofa clad in full shinigami regalia, was none other than his lieutenant. She clutched a bottle to her chest, and Toshiro was right in figuring it to be empty. The room even smelled of alcohol, so it was no doubt that she had drunk herself to oblivion while he was away.

Toshiro felt like strangling the living daylights out of her right then and there.

Gripping his fists, he inhaled deeply, and with each breath he exhaled it seemed like his irritation was only building up rather than decreasing.

The only light that illuminated his office came from a candle on the coffee table, a short stump sure to be nothing more than a mass of wax in less than an hour.

Toshiro approached his desk, walking right past Matsumoto without even a second glance back at her, and fingered through the messy documents. With each paper he turned and read, his eyes grew wider, and when he had compiled them all in a pile, he was staring at her like she had six heads.

The woman had actually done her work after all.

Toshiro leaned against the edge of the desk, ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh, and folded his arms. A moment passed wherein he wondered just how she could have committed to her work, finishing it in less time than he had expected.

Eventually, he caught himself gazing at her face, noting a few strands of hair that stuck to her full lips. Out of his own accord, he reached out a hand and brushed them away, and then catching himself a moment too late, hastily pulling away.

Toshiro shook his head and, with a scowl back in place, carefully took the sake bottle from Matsumoto's clutches – he wouldn't want broken glass all over his office floor anytime soon. He placed it on the table and went behind his desk, returning with a light blue blanket that he kept in a drawer for when he stayed up late. He draped it over her, gently so that she wouldn't wake up, and made sure that it didn't slip off.

The young captain lingered a moment longer, thinking of nothing in particular, before leaning down and blowing out the candle. Darkness fell upon the office, and Toshiro quietly slipped out with a content smile on his face.

_Get some rest, Matsumoto… For once, you deserve it._

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><p><strong>A review would be nice. :)<strong>


	2. Cry

**Well, due to the surprising amount of positive feedback for the previous one-shot, _Rest_, I've decided to turn this into a little collection of Hitsugaya-Matsumoto genfics. That, plus the fact that I've recently gotten sucked into the Tenth Division thanks to a friend. Still trying to figure out whether that's a good thing or not though. .**

**Summary: **"It's okay to cry, Matsumoto." In which Matsumoto mourns and Toshiro's the covertly caring captain.

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><p><span>Cry<span>

It was a full moon that night, and Toshiro didn't know how long he had been standing there gazing at such a beauty. Striking silver rays seemed to pierce into his very soul, unmasking him beneath that starry sky, as he leaned against the door to his office with his arms folded across his chest. Silence engulfed the atmosphere, and he would have appreciated it if it weren't for the soft crying that gently shattered the still of peace.

He was all too aware as to whose crying that was, but, despite his being a captain and the superior, he didn't dare intervene such a private session. If it hadn't been so quiet in the first place, he would have barged right in without so much as a knock – it was his office anyway, so why bother?

But Toshiro knew the exact reason to her being upset. It was simple, really. Following the war with Aizen and the sudden revelation regarding one Gin Ichimaru, she had fallen into a state of despair with the likes of which he had never experienced before. Often her mind would wander off to gods-knew-where, and it was only after he had nudged her out of her trance that she focused back to the task at hand.

It was difficult having such a lieutenant, but Toshiro chose to keep his mouth shut. Upsetting her further was the last thing on his list, and it wouldn't make for a very stable squad to have its two top officers fighting with each other.

But now, with the coming of her worst case scenario yet, Toshiro found himself trying to control his own raging sentiments. Half of him just wanted to drag Aizen out of jail and kill him with his own bare hands, or turn back time and try his best to stop Gin from betraying them. He had to grip his own arms tightly to stop himself from barging straight in and slapping some sense into her, but when a sob reached his ears, he couldn't hold back any longer.

Toshiro went right into the room and flicked on the light switch, and there, sitting hunched up on the couch with an empty sake bottle beside her and a box of tissues on the other, was Matsumoto. Her nose was red, her eyes swollen and puffy, and he couldn't help but stare at her in shock.

Immediately, she turned away, placing the bottle on the floor and throwing the box of tissues carelessly over the couch.

"Captain, w-where have you been?" she said, forcing a jovial tone above her sobs, having her thick orange mane hide her face away from him. "I was wondering when you'd be back, since you're not really one to stay out this late, am I right?"

Toshiro stood there, frozen to the spot, and continued to stare at her. She scooted away to sit on the farthest end of the couch, as if a seat for three people wasn't enough to fit her captain. She swiped hastily at her face, most likely her eyes, and let out a few soft sniffs.

"What's wrong, Captain?" She still wasn't looking at him, seemingly more interested in her hands twisting the skirt of her shinigami uniform. "Do you need something to drink? I can go and make some tea for you if y-"

"I could ask you the same thing, Matsumoto." His cold tone made her look up, and instantly she regretted following her reflexes. Those startling blue eyes of his transfixed her, and despite how shamed she felt at that moment, having been discovered by her captain, she just couldn't look away. It would be rude of her to do so anyway, and though rash and an avid alcoholic, she was never one for disrespect.

"N-nothing's wrong, Captain," she stuttered, words stubbornly stuck in her throat. "Why…why do you ask?" But she already knew the answer to that question. From the look in his eyes, she knew that he was aware of her personal plight. Indeed, nearly everyone in the Seireitei knew, but Toshiro was far more acquainted with the subject than anyone else. She should have known better than to doubt his knowledge, and hiding right in his office to mourn was, to her at that very moment, the most ridiculous thing she had ever done.

Toshiro stepped towards her, and she closed her eyes to avoid looking into his own, turning away to face the wall of shelves. He settled on the armrest on the other side of the couch, a ways from her, and folded his arms across his chest once more. She picked up a tissue from the coffee table and wiped her nose, avoiding his gaze yet feeling it pierce her like needles.

"It's okay to cry," he murmured, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She swallowed a huge lump that had just lodged itself in her throat and forced herself not to look at him. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to be seeking comfort from him in the first place. He was her _captain_, not her blessed father. If he were Gin himself, she would have flung the coffee table at his face right then and there, screaming through her tears.

But this was Captain Hitsugaya, and he, throughout the many years she had served under him, was never one to be fooled around with. She knew better than to lie to him and, following that little bit of common sense, she didn't even make any effort to deny the fact that she had been too caught up with her own mourning.

So Matsumoto stayed silent, overwhelmed by the flame that burned within her. She never knew it would hurt this badly. It did pain her when she first found that Gin had betrayed her and the Seireitei, and it hurt her even more to know that he was actually doing it for the greater good – guilt overrode her in regards to her own actions of accusing him for such dirty crimes.

But losing him was the worst, and no sooner had Matsumoto thought that she felt the tears pricking the back of her eyes again. She willed herself to force them back, to constrain them, but still, stubborn as they were, they spilled over the edge and trailed down her already tear-glistened cheek.

Toshiro was there beside her before she even knew it, resting a warm, comforting hand on her shoulder that said more than anything the captain was capable of in words. He tightened his grip when she started to tremble. She hugged herself, swallowed her sobs, trying in vain to stop this weakness, but Toshiro seemed to be able to read her mind, repeating what he had said just moments before:

"It's okay to cry, Matsumoto." This time, he was more gentle, voice a little softer, though strong enough to break her completely. She buried her face in her hands, allowing a sob to leave her, letting the tears stream down her cheeks once more.

Toshiro guided her face to him, silently permitting her to bury it in his chest, and for the rest of the night, listened to her quiet weeping as the moonlight shone down upon them.

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><p><strong>A review would be nice. :)<strong>


	3. Alone

**Summary: **One night, Matsumoto learns that in dark times such as these, nobody is ever alone.

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><p><span>Alone<span>

It was a full moon that night, and Rangiku sat on the rooftops of her division's barracks, a bottle of _sake _beside her. She admired the way the moon cast its faint silvery light across the Seireitei, setting the whole place aglow as if it were an ethereal city.

Beautiful, yet sad at the same time.

Countless lives had been lost – captains, lieutenants, Fifth Seats, Tenth Seats – just to protect this fortress. During nights like these, she felt like the ghosts from the past returned to drift across the Seireitei, looking down and watching over their family, friends, loved ones.

It seemed plausible, but Rangiku couldn't believe it. She couldn't, as there wasn't even a hint of his fox-like features anywhere. That head of grey hair she so often used to ruffle during the olden days in the Rukon was lost to her; she'd do anything to get it back, to have just one last glimpse of him. She was even willing to have him haunt her as a poltergeist, an undead, just so she could touch his face one last time.

The pain in her chest steadily grew, reopening old wounds that never had the chance to heal. Rangiku knew that they'd stay forever open, visible as emotional scars littering her body. It was hard to ignore them, the hurt that pierced her heart at that very moment, the image of his face flashing through her mind's eye, but she chastised herself, told herself to be strong.

If she couldn't be strong for herself, he'd be upset. She didn't want to upset him, always wanted to make him happy, eager to please him.

Rangiku tipped her head back, taking a swig of _sake_. Alcohol always calmed her nerves, but tonight was different. The warmth that spread throughout her being, the heat that scorched her throat when she choked – all of that was nothing. She was numb to them, senseless, as if her feelings had trickled away with his passing.

With a shake of her head, she downed the whole bottle, willing her old friend to help ease the tight knot in her chest, but still it failed.

Stifling a cry, she buried her face in a hand, mentally cursing alcohol for the first time. And she had thought that she could count on it. How bitter it was, when one's good friend did nothing to ease the burden whenever a crisis arose.

The pricking at the back of her eyes, odd and foreign, brought a small sob out of her. She clasped a hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut, shaking her head in protest.

_Don't cry, don't cry_.

Gin wouldn't have wanted this.

_Don't cry._

The hand on her shoulder made her give a start, and she raised her head, hoping that he had finally returned from the dead, but all she saw was the strict frown of her captain. Wide-eyed, tears streaming down her cheeks, face flushed from alcohol, Rangiku could only stare up at him, frozen in place.

"C-Captain…"

The grip on her shoulder tightened as Toshiro's piercing blue eyes hardened, and laced through them she could see concern, worry, and even warmth. There was that little bit of understanding in them, and it seemed like his courage, his strength and confidence was funneled into her through that one touch.

He opened his mouth to speak, and the words that he murmured etched a small smile, sad yet relieved at the same time, on Rangiku's face, "You're not alone, Matsumoto."

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><p><strong>A review would be nice instead of just favs. :)<strong>


	4. Diligence

**Changed the collection's title from _The Tenth Drabble _to _Dragons & Wine_.**

**Summary: **Toshiro just can't stand his lieutenant's tendency to ditch work, and he finally decides to give her a piece of his mind.

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><p><span>Diligence<span>

Toshiro feels his eyebrow twitch as yet another snore reaches his ears.

Lying on the couch, with an arm over the edge of the cushion, legs propped up on the armrest, is none other than his lieutenant. Sleeping away, as if nothing is out of the ordinary. As if there isn't any work for her to do. As if he isn't even _there_.

It's been over an hour. He had returned from his captains' meeting - which had been rather uneventful, with the Captain-Commander discussing the funds of the Seireitei and whatnot; stuff that he isn't concerned about - and already she was asleep. He had told her to at least get some work done before he comes back but, since he was up against Rangiku, he didn't expect much.

And he didn't get any.

And so, Toshiro finds himself once again at his desk, mulling over paperwork and documents that he just wants to soak in Rangiku's sake and shoot a fireball out of Hinamori's zanpakuto and burn the hell out of them.

But despite how much he wants to, how tempting it is to just throw Rangiku into the fire to burn her alongside the papers, he doesn't. He's calm, collected; he's the cool captain that everyone is familiar with. Nobody knows what's going on within him; he doesn't let anyone know.

Another snore, and however much Toshiro tries to stay calm, he finally snaps. He leaps to his feet, pushing his chair back so hard that it crashes against the wall behind him, and marches over to the couch.

She looks so peaceful, her head resting on her arm, lips slightly parted, and for a moment there, Toshiro stops himself.

But the prospect of having to go through those huge piles of paperwork overcomes him.

With a growl, he kicks the couch as hard as he can, releasing all his fury onto the poor piece of furniture, and Rangiku immediately gives a start, a small cry leaving her lips. She's dazed for a moment, but upon the sharp snap from her captain, she turns to regard him with a puzzled stare.

And then she grins. "Hey, captain, good morning! How was the meeting?"

"It was fine, thank you," he hisses through gritted teeth, fists clenched, "but Matsumoto, didn't I tell you to get some work done before I return? Did you sign any reports? Did you look through any letters of complaint?" He can feel the steam coming out of his ears now. "Did you do anything besides drinking yourself into oblivion while I was gone?"

Rangiku blinks, then purses her lips, a flash of guilt crossing her face as she looks away.

"I thought so." Toshiro, seething, marches to the door, but before he turns the knob, he looks back at her. "Why can't you be like other lieutenants, Matsumoto? Hard-working, diligent, obedient - truth be told, Hinamori does a better job than you."

And with that, he walks out, slamming the door behind him.

He's only a few steps away from the office when he pauses in his tracks. He recalls his words, running his fingers through his hair. Now that he really thinks about it, that had been a relatively harsh treatment. Never did he explode like that before - as far as he can remember.

He shakes his head and tilts his face up to the sky, trying to smooth out his jumbled thoughts. He's never one to apologize, and it will be like admitting defeat, submitting, if he goes back in and tells her that he's sorry.

But it's her fault to begin with.

Toshiro clasps a hand over his forehead and, against his own will, turns around and strides back. He pauses outside for a while, wondering what he's going to say, but before he's even ready, he opens the door.

And finds Rangiku at her desk, eyebrows knitted together in concentration, scanning a piece of rumpled paper while writing on another. Her wrist flicks deftly, the brush strokes smooth and confident.

Immediately, Toshiro closes the door and leans against it, eyes wide. That really isn't what he had expected to come from Rangiku.

Maybe he's just imagining things.

Mentally giving himself a kick, he enters again. And again he sees her bent over her work, nose almost touching the paper, squinting to read some horribly written passage.

Toshiro stands transfixed in the doorway.

Rangiku finally looks up and, upon seeing the shocked expression on her captain's face, gives him a fond, apologetic smile.

It takes a minute or two, his eyebrow twitching, but when Rangiku returns to her work, he allows a smile, relieved and grateful, to grace his features.

And for the rest of the day, captain and lieutenant enjoy a peaceful, quiet atmosphere in their office, heads working together – for once – to solve black and white nonsense.

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><p><strong>Comments and corrections welcomed. <strong>

**Please leave a review. :)**


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